MultiColored Eggs
by pancakesareking
Summary: SLASH [RaceSpot] Just a late Easter fic. Spot in a bunny suit, and some multi-colored eggs in the fridge. Give it a read.


Here is my Easter contribution to the fanfiction world. Spot/Race, because they are best. This is really short, and sugary sweet.  
  
Multi-Colored Eggs  
  
Children's laughter lilted through the garden, a beautifulsound to some of the people lounging in the park. To Spot, it was worse than fingernails on a chalkboard. Eight children ran like headless chickens in thepark, looking for the hidden plastic eggs that held tiny prizes inside.  
  
Spot glared downward when he felt two small hands yanking at his suit. A round, rosy face pouted up at him.  
  
"Mr. Spot, Mr. Spot, Jeremy found six, and I only found three!" Mr. Spot? He was only eighteen, damn it! It must be the suit. He squirmed uncomfortably. It was chafing him in places he didn't know he had.  
  
"Well, tell Jeremy to share some with you." He added under his breath, "After all, you two are joined at the hip anyway." The small boy nodded eagerly and ran off to find his twin brother. Twins. Spot thought one was plenty.  
  
When his boyfriend had casually slipped a job he had heard about into their usual morning conversation the day before, Spot hadn't exactly been excited. The minute the word 'kids' had left Race's mouth, Spot had refused. Two seconds later a bunny suit was mentioned, and Spot wanted to goback to bed.  
  
Then Race had done this pouty thing and promised his lover a special present, which was the reason Spot was putting himself through hell at two o'clock on Easter Sunday. Only rich people would subject their kids tosuch a thing.  
  
'It had damn well better be special,' Spot thought,looking down at his billowy white suit made of synthetic fur, 'for only sixdollars an hour to watch some rich kids find eggs.' At least he didn't have towear the rubber nose. They had compromised.  
  
"Good job, sweetie!" A robust woman decked in jewelry waved a sausage arm at a four year old with a large basket. Spot was dismayedto see the child had only found one egg. His instructions had been to scatter36 eggs, so that each child had four, give or take a few eggs. Honestly, he had picked some of the most obvious spots.  
  
He had a feeling these kids were holding back on purpose.Even he could see the neon orange egg nestled in the grass! Two more hours, he told himself.  
  
Two more hours until he could go home and have the best sex of his life. Spot knew Race was going to use Snuggle-bunny pet names, and make rabbit jokes about his libido. That was Race for you, always making dumb jokes.  
  
"Jimmy, stop hitting Alice, she found that egg fair andsquare!" He yelled, watching as a rabid five-year-old boy attacked theplaid-clad little girl.  
  
Spot hated kids. He hated them even more when the little boy turned and stuck his tongue out and hit the girl once more out of spite.  
  
It was the bunny suit; he lost intimidation points over astupid suit. It was horribly uncomfortable, the way the hood scrunched around his face and one dejected ear drooped into his eye. If one single friend of his saw him like this, he would be ruined.  
  
Racetrack had probably told every single person they knew about this. Hell, there would probably be pictures on the Internet the next day.  
  
But that was unfair to Race. He was a sweet guy; he wouldn't sell out his own boyfriend like that. Spot groaned. Of courseRacetrack would, he was probably making bets on how many kids Spot was going to strangle with his giant cotton paws.  
  
Okay, Spot told himself, look on the bright side. A sunny Sunday afternoon, no real work—an assistant in a bookstore—and at least the children weren't touching him. Even with his small stature, Spot could rough up any guy who laid a hand on him, but a kid?  
  
Spot Conlon didn't think he could handle a kid. Oh, geez.The bright side of things didn't seem bright enough at the moment.  
  
Spot wondered if there was a chance no one would see him leave. A five-foot tall bunny wasn't such a strange thing in New York. He'dseen stranger. Like the time Specs had let loose a truck full of chickens for animal rights protest. Six chickens were victims of hit and run, much to Specs despair.  
  
Spot glanced down at his watch and his eyes widened. Wow.Time flew by when you weren't having fun. Only five minutes. And that one egg was still there, lonely in the grass.  
  
Finally, Jeremy found the egg, to his twins' anger. Afight began, ending in tears and spilt candy, but Spot couldn't force himself to care. He was free.  
  
Four hours without sex—on a Sunday—was a harder task thanSpot could handle. As the woman in charge placed the money in one hand, he raised his other to hail a taxi.  
  
The driver didn't ask about the bunny suit, and Spot didn't tell. He simply offered the directions to his apartment, and relished in the squeal of tires as they drove off.  
  
"So..." the driver said, "nice weather, huh?"  
  
Spot blinked. "Uh, sure."  
  
After that, they didn't say anything. Spot had always wondered what an awkward silence felt like. They pulled up to the building and Spot jumped out, throwing the appropriate bills to the cab driver. The he ran into the building the building and up the stairs as fast as his little bunny feet would allow.  
  
A few minutes of fumbling with the keys and he was in the apartment. Alone. He could always tell upon entering when Race wasn't there.  
  
For one, there was no music. Second, there was no cute Italian voice calling out to him from the bedroom. Third, there was no cigar smoke wafting lazily around the apartment.  
  
"Race..." he called, hoping he would be wrong, and his boyfriend would jump out from behind the couch and ravish him.  
  
There was no answer. By that point, both ears were drooping, and Spot had to wonder if he had really expected an answer.  
  
Still...  
  
Spot had worn a bunny suit for four hours, stood in a park with eight children, watching as they fumbled blindly for horribly obvious plastic eggs, and there was no gratuitous sex afterwards? Well screw that.  
  
Too frustrated to even remove the suit, Spot trudgeddejectedly into the kitchen and threw his earnings down on the counter. It was nearly six by then, the sun was setting, casting an orange glow on the linoleum floor. Great. A pretty sunset, and his pretty Italian wasn't there to watch the sunset with him.  
  
With a sigh, he opened the fridge and went to grab a beer.Which wasn't there. In place of his normal six-pack (Jack Kelley was quite thegenerous 21-year-old) sat two plastic eggs, one green and one pink. Of all the times for Race to be cute, this wasn't one of them.  
  
"Okay, Race, you win." Race would want him to pick the green first. So naturally, he lifted the pink egg. Something clattered inside,and Spot found himself wishing it was an Advil.  
  
Instead of a red and yellow pill, a ring fell out. A shimmering, silver, sapphire studded ring. Well. Advil and a fancy ring werethe same in Spot's book, seeing as they both got rid of headaches.  
  
He reached a shaking hand into the fridge a plucked up thenext egg. The popping sound of it opening was the only thing in his mind, andhe pulled out the note that was balled up inside.  
  
'Will you marry me? I'll be at Tibby's waiting for your answer. Love, Race.'  
  
Spot was out the door before the note hit the floor.  
  
*******************************************  
  
The cook at Tibby's had been afraid at first, and threatened to call the police. After the exasperated 'It's me!' the cooks beady eyes squinted and he said, "'EY, Spot!"  
  
Which had, in retrospect, been a bad thing. Heads turned,and stared blatantly. It took Spot a few minutes to realize he still wore his bunny suit. He scowled.  
  
"Wha', yous never seen the Easta Bunny?"  
  
One man had the balls to shake his head, and Spot wouldhave attacked him, had he not heard his lovely Italian clear his throat. Spot's eyes snapped over to wear his boyfriend stood.  
  
Race had combed his dark hair carefully, but Spot could tell he had been running his fingers through it again, as he always did when he was nervous. He wore a tux, which hugged his figure while looking incredibly out of place.  
  
In a place like Tibby's, most people didn't own tuxes.Hell, most people probably couldn't SPELL tux. Spot himself had had problemswith the word. Of course, that was before he had gotten the job in thebookstore.  
  
A shy smile took place of Race's usual cocky grin, butSpot couldn't bring himself to care. He walked slowly forward, forcing a smiledown. He put his paw out, the neon pink egg nestled safely inside.  
  
Race's face crumpled. He took the egg gently, and poppedit open. Inside, small piece of paper sat, the word YES screaming up at him inSpot's messy handwriting. He could feel his grin returning.  
  
When he looked up, he found his arms full of fluffy bunny.He yanked off the hood Spot wore and began kissing him, simultaneously trying to breath, as Spot had his furry legs wrapped around Race's stomach and hisbody was crushing Race's ribs.  
  
Pfft, as if he cared at that moment. He returned the kiss fervently, regardless of the people watching. His fiancée—he loved the sound of that, *his* fiancée—wriggled in his arms, silently pleading for all of Race'sattention. He couldn't refuse Spot if he even tried.  
  
"So," Spot gasped, sucking in air, "wanna go home and goat it like rabbits?"  
  
Their bed was the first to hear about the engagement.  
  
~The End~  
  
Happy Easter!  
  
Review, please, and I shall love thou until the end of time. 


End file.
